


I remember Paris

by MariaPurt



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Domestic, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Palawan flashbacks, Smut, serquel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPurt/pseuds/MariaPurt
Summary: What if Raquel managed to climb the tree during the second heist, but Sergio didn't?
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 52
Kudos: 256





	1. I love you

**Author's Note:**

> Big hug to KarenDeidre and her critical thinking. Your 'why's' are the best in the world, thank you so much!  
> P.S. This title has a sentimental value, and it's not because of the song. Anybody fangirling long enough to remember where it comes from? Grannie dinosaurs, show yourselves 😂🙏

“Raquel, be careful!”

“If they catch you, I’ll kill you,” she throws, turning to face him, and pushes herself out of the moving Ambulance before her mind calms down enough to take her back into hurtful memories.

This is neither the time nor the place, Raquel repeats to herself, and then her body hits the ground, rolls over and she grits her teeth not to grunt in pain.

It takes a moment before the world around her stops spinning. Raquel pushes herself up, looks around, listening in carefully, but mostly hearing her own heartbeat. She starts running, buzzing sound of a drone above her head. She needs to get further away from the road before picking a tree to climb. She knows the police are near even if she can’t see them yet (for when she sees them, it’s going to be too late anyways).

Raquel slows down for a moment and pulls out the Off spray, aiming it at her boots. Dogs better not be able to pick her trail and show the direction she’s ran in.

She runs again, just a few hundred meters, and then puts on the climbing gear. Sprays the bottom of the tree to make sure the search team can’t pick her scent, and then pulls herself up, pressing her legs to the tree trunk as tight as she can. Far away, between the green leaves, she can spot tiny figures with guns and bulletproof vests.

_Faster._

She bites her lip and hurries up, moaning when the rough bark scratches against her chin _. Just a little more, just a little._ As if mocking her mind, her body signals that it’s reaching its limit. Panic and exhaustion and _heartache_ are to blame. Raquel’s hands are sweating and shaky, her backpack suddenly feels too heavy for her spine and her knees start to get numb. She slides down half a meter, scratching her cheek, then roars quietly, annoyance and anger (and desperation, if she’s honest with herself) squeezing her chest.

“Raquel, you should be in position,” she hears Sergio’s voice in her speaker and moos, her whole body tensed as she tries to hold on to the tree. “Raquel?!”

 _She went after you because you’re the weak link_ , her mind throws, and Raquel cries out with anger, adrenalin filling her blood; rage taking over.

Finally, she grabs onto a branch above her head and steadies herself enough to be able to open her mouth and move her tongue without biting it.

“In position,” she breathes out, pulling her body up and settling on top of a thick branch. She covers herself with a camouflage net hurriedly. It’s not ideal and her position is far from comfortable, but this is only going to last for a few minutes, Raquel tells herself, just until the search team passes.

She holds her breath as she spots officers mere meters away from the bottom of her tree. She watches them, wondering if it was a close call or if they actually saw her. Someone lifts his head and stares up, right where Raquel is sitting, and she swallows hard, but the dogs move past the tree, and so do the soldiers. Raquel finally finds herself relax a little. She exhales through her mouth, touching her burning cheek with fingertips. There are tears on the skin, tears and sweat, and Raquel clenches her fists, willing her mind to stay away from what has happened just minutes ago.

_I didn’t ask you to come._

No, no, no, don’t go there.

_I beat you at this game._

Damn it.

“We have a problem,” she hears Sergio’s voice through the speaker in her ear, and her heart skips a beat.

Tears seem to dry out instantly, and the mixture of anger and self-pity is momentarily replaced with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Military is here. I don’t have enough time.”

“No, no… Sergio, stick to the plan, climb! Sergio!” she hisses at him worriedly. He doesn’t respond, just grunts a few more times.

Raquel hugs her backpack, pressing it tighter to her lap. She looks down.

“There are soldiers everywhere. Did you get up there?” she whispers with hope.

“No, I had to improvise,” Sergio responds, panting, and Raquel realizes with horror that he is running. No, no, no, he is supposed to be on top of a tree by now, he can’t be on the ground.

“What?”

“There’s a farm, four hundred meters south of your location…”

“No, Sergio, that’s the first place they’ll look!”

“It’s the only option. I’ve dropped a package under a tree about fifty meters away, covered with a net… There’s a broken branch, third from the bottom, and a bird’s nest. If they find me, Raquel…” he coughs a few times, catching his breath, and Raquel can hear a sound of a closing door. He’s inside. “Marseille will be here in three hours and I’ve activated plan Alcatraz,” Sergio adds, breathing loud through his nose. “We only need to last for three hours, Raquel, and then we’re safe.”

She wonders briefly when Sergio managed to make that phone call, and then rubs her eyes, grinning tiredly and shaking her head.

“Okay, received,” Raquel breathes out, choosing not to comment on how reckless it was of Sergio to call Marseille while running for his life in the woods. Or how stupid it is to hide in a barn when police are looking everywhere. Or how it’s not okay to say hurtful things to each other just because life got complicated. Or how fucked up they both are right now, because… _Because what_ , her mind inquires, sounding too much like her ex-husband. _Would you stop blaming everyone else for your own wrong choices?_

It wasn’t a wrong choice, Raquel insists. It wasn’t even a choice, for that matter. Doing what she did, following Sergio to Palawan, was the only option she had if she wanted to be with her daughter. It was a pragmatic decision, she admits, but an _easy_ one, because she still had feelings for Sergio. And then…

And then following him here, into the chaos of this robbery, was the only option she had, because… Because… Raquel struggles to put it into words.

Sergio is wrong, Raquel tells herself, she didn’t come because she wanted revenge. She has devoted her life to the system and that system fucked her up, made her the most hated person in Spain and took away her daughter, yes, but that’s in the _past_.

She came because this is the right cause. She came because she can help. (And because she’s worked for the police for so long and deep down she feels responsible for what’s happened to Rio).

“How are you?” Sergio’s voice is soft.

“Scared. And pissed off,” she answers honestly, shifting uncomfortably, because the branch is anything but comfortable to sit on.

“And I’m surrounded by chicken shit,” Sergio laughs, but she can hear stiffness in his voice.

“You deserve it,” Raquel chuckles, hoping to take some of the tension away, but it seems to have the opposite effect.

“Sorry, Raquel. I’m truly sorry. Look, I… I’ve lived many years and you are my first love. I don’t know how to do _this_ , I don’t know how to talk about this. I just know that I need you in my life…”

“Sergio, stop. Stop, please. You’ll say all this to my face when we get out of this mess in a few hours.”

Raquel sniffs. He’d warned her that this plan needed more time, he’d warned her it was far from perfect, and now he’s living his biggest nightmare: having to think on his feet and watching everything spiral out of control.

“I’ve cherished everything that you shared with me. Cooking together on our filthy boat. Swimming fully clothed in the sea. And Van Morrison is very good. I like him a lot. Everything is better now that I’m with you. Because I’m in love with you.”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye, Sergio?”

“You know that chances of them not finding me here are slim, Raquel. And when they do, I…”

“No, please…”

“Let me finish, Raquel, please… And please forgive me, because when we were arguing, I was talking as someone who doesn’t enjoy life, I was talking as _Professor_. But as _Sergio_ I want you to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Whatever happens…”

“We have plan Paris in case one of us gets caught, remember?” she sniffs involuntarily.

“Yes, but…”

She knows what he’s about to say. Or rather _not say_. Her mind is heading in the same direction: plan Paris is based on the assumption that the authorities must follow rules. But with Alicia and colonel Tamayo in charge that just isn’t happening.

Raquel sighs, whispers forcefully, “I love you. And I know it’s overwhelming, a mother, a grandmother and a daughter, a whole family taking over your life. And you’ve changed your ways for us. _For me_ ,” she sniffs again, her lower lips wobbles. “And I am grateful. And I meant what I said before. This life with you is a thousand times better than what I had… So no _buts_ , Professor. We got Rio out, we’ll get you, too,” Raquel laughs through tears after a short pause.

He chuckles in return, but says nothing. Raquel drops her head onto the backpack pressed to her lap and closes her eyes, willing her lips to stop trembling. How did things get so bad so fast.

She still remembers the lightheadedness she felt the moment she found coordinates on the postcards. The drive to Portugal, the long last minute economy class flight, the snoring neighbor and the nasty food poisoning she got the evening she landed in Manila. Even the two days land trip from the capital to Palawan, with boats and minibuses she took to make sure nobody could track her real destination… Somehow all of that feels good now, because it all came in a package with _him_.

Following her GPS, Raquel briefly thought he’d just lead her to a beautiful place, one they’d once dreamt of running away to together.

Did she hope she’d find Sergio there? Yes. Did she expect it? Not really, because by then it had been over a year since their last encounter.

Raquel was never delusional, and she’s proud of that.

She simply wanted a _closure_ , whatever that could be.

And then there he was, Salva, _Sergio_ , as if time had stopped for an entire year and nothing had changed.

They just picked up where they had left off, and the shattered life she’d been trying to fix back in Spain suddenly felt distant and surreal. Their lovemaking that night felt better than before, and even silently staring at each other’s reddened faces afterwards didn’t feel strange or awkward. It felt good.

The nasty question that had been torturing Raquel ever since she discovered Sergio’s true identity… the doubt whether any of it had been real, it was finally gone; it let her be in peace.

It _was_ real, _all_ of it.

It had been real back in Spain, and it was real between them in Palawan. And it was their first morning together, lying naked, their bodies casually covered with thin sheets on a big bed in his house, that she somehow decided this was _it_. This was going to be her new life.

Sergio methodically planned and arranged to move her mother and her daughter to the Philippines, and yes, there was a fight, because he didn’t want Raquel to go back to Spain to accompany them. She did it anyways. Locking the house in Madrid one last time knowing she’d never be able to come back, _that_ felt strange, Raquel laughs bitterly, tasting the salt of tears on her lips and shifting her back against the tree trunk uncomfortably.

Sergio was clumsy in domestic life, a loner unused to constant presence of other people; but he was sweet and caring in the most unexpected ways: with her, with her daughter and with her mother. It mattered the most. Raquel was happy that _this_ hadn’t been fake back in Spain: she’d fallen for it, for his kindness, and she hadn’t been wrong.

 _Living_ with Sergio didn’t come easy at first.

He wasn’t perfect and he wasn’t a knight in a shining armor, but he did his best. Yes, there were times she – no, she never wished she could go back – felt like yelling at him from the top of her lungs (and sometimes she really did). And as the first excitement and novelty of having each other had worn off, reality started sinking in: they were different people. Not entirely opposites, but Sergio had been on his own most of his life and Raquel… well, she’d had a family and colleagues and birthday parties and a social life (that she herself sometimes had hated, but it had been nonetheless a part of who she was).

Where Raquel went with a ‘ _let’s see where it takes us’_ , Sergio would always chose a ‘ _let’s consider the outcomes’_. He wanted clarity and practicality, and Raquel preferred to go with a flow (and sometimes - a momentary whim). It took months before he stopped trying to understand what was happening between them with his _head_ , and started trusting his _gut_.

And _then_ he was perfect. Her _life_ was perfect, even if her mother wasn’t getting any better or her daughter occasionally acted out, because she missed her dad.

Raquel finally had a caring partner who made her trust he’d never hurt her. She felt safe and at ease, and she felt she could rely on him, and that was so much different from what she’d had before. Her fear and distrust were gone completely, and she got stronger with every smallest thing he did for her. Be that a cup of coffee he’d bring in the morning or the way he’d pay more attention to her body during sex than she’d paid to it herself (that meticulousness of his certainly does have its perks, Raquel grins to herself).

“ _It’s not a rocket science_ ,” Raquel remembers him laugh at her.

“ _You’re enjoying superiority of that brain of yours way too much, Professor_ ,” she laughed back, kissing Sergio on the lips.

He picked her up, leaving their lost cause an abandoned pile of colorful papers on the table.

“ _I’m gonna nail it someday,”_ she whispered into his ear as his hands were already pulling at her underwear.

He’d learnt all the things that made her happy, oh, he certainly had, Raquel licks her lips, remembering their lovemaking. It had always been good, but it was somehow even better that time. Was it because she’d finally talked to her sister that day and they’d made peace? Or because they’d bought their first boat despite Sergio’s dislike of water and beach? Or because they’d moved to a new house, and that place actually felt like home? Or, maybe, because she’d found a book on Sergio’s desk, a book of parental advice, and that’d meant a world for her? Or simply because that was the day she had realized she was truly happy. She’d woken up in the morning with a notion that everything was going to be great and nothing could ruin it.

(And, also, probably, because Sergio had tried all those new things on her he’d been reading about the previous evening. He was getting braver, and not just in bed, and Raquel appreciated his progress).

She remembers collapsing onto Sergio, still holding him inside, her breasts pressed against his chest; gasping for air; her body shivering and burning with an almost painful pleasure.

“ _I’m gonna learn it… Learn to make origami,”_ she mumbled back then, resting on top of him, slowly coming back to her senses, panting, “ _Especially if my every failure will be followed by this,”_ Sergio’s fingertips caressing the small of her back and then sliding lower, she kissed his chin and bit his lower lip.

 _“I can’t quite figure out if you are failing deliberately, knowing I’ll have no choice but to comfort you,“_ he laughed, pinching her ass playfully with one hand and moving the other one between her shoulder blades.

_“Would you mind if I did?”_

_“Never”,_ his happy grin still bright on Raquel’s mind, she wipes her eyes.

Her back and her legs hurt from sitting on this branch, but the soldiers are still near and she cannot move. It seems almost funny to her now, origami really isn’t that hard, she chuckles to herself. But it had taken her months to learn, and it was well worth the effort. It somehow meant so much for Sergio. _The excitement on his face when she’d handed him her first orizuru and he’d given her a happy dance before pulling her in for a kiss…_

“Lisbon?” Sergio’s voice interrupts her thoughts, and Raquel almost jumps, surprised how vivid her memories can be. He sounds unexpectedly relaxed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lisbon, everything is going to be alright,” Sergio states quickly, an audible smile on his face “We’ve got help. Justino and Reni here, the owners of this farm, they agreed to uh, hide me.”

Raquel frowns; Sergio is slightly shaken. He’s had an argument and a heated one, she realizes. Were those Justino and Reni going to sell him out? Possible. Government has most probably announced a hefty reward for Professor’s head by now, and for a vague prospect of getting a lot of money many would sell their own mother.

“Do you have enough cash to pay for their help, cariño?” Raquel asks worriedly. “I can bring what I’ve got on me as soon as this is over.”

“Yes, yes,” Sergio mumbles.

Raquel hears some noises in the background, and a female voice asking something quietly, and then dogs barking and…

“Police! Police! Drop your weapon! Put your hands where I can see them...”

There’s yelling and sounds of broken furniture.

“Professor, Professor is in there, he’s got a gun!” it must be Reni shouting, her voice getting quieter as the woman runs out of the barn.

“Sergio, what’s going on in there? Sergio!”

“Hands on your head, Professor! Take the civilian out!”

It’s… Suárez, it’s his voice, Raquel recognizes it in an instant and her blood goes cold. She clenches her fists.

“Sergio, please be careful,” she whispers. “This guy is dangerous,” she adds, fear taking over her. Her head hurts, pulse pounding in her temples.

Deep down she’d hoped it would be Angel who would find Sergio (or better yet, no one, but she realistically knew that wasn’t much of an option). With Suárez, there’s no telling how things will go. They’ll escalate quickly and get out of control, that much Raquel knows for sure. He’s too angry, and too dedicated, and too trigger happy.

“I’m unarmed!” Sergio shouts.

There’s still a lot of noise and cursing, and his breathing is very loud in Raquel’s ear.

“Don’t let them take away the witness,” she pushes, hoping a civilian’s presence might cool Suárez down a little. “Sergio, get that Justino guy to stay inside until they arrest you!”

“Why are you sending him out?” Sergio shouts, and Raquel can tell by the sounds she picks that they are pushing the guy out of a barn.

“Don’t let him leave, Sergio!” she cries desperately.

“Justino, don’t leave… please!” Sergio repeats.

“He’s dangerous, you need to leave!” Suárez cuts in, and there’s a bang of a door being closed, and then it’s much quieter in Raquel’s speaker, mostly Sergio’s hectic breathing filling the air.

“I’m turning myself in,” Sergio pleads, and Raquel gasps for air.

She looks down, for a brief moment contemplating an insane idea: what if she could save him somehow? What if she could climb down and distract them long enough for Sergio to get out? She shakes her head almost immediately. That’s only going to get her arrested, too, and then their friends inside the Bank will be left blind and helpless. She takes a deep breath, steadying her trembling voice.

“Tell them anything they want. Plan Paris, we’ll get you out! Just stay…”

“Hello, traitor!” she hears Suárez much louder and clearer, and this makes her jerk.

He’s taken the earpiece from Sergio. How much did he hear? How much did _Sergio_ hear of what she’s just said?

“Suárez, he’s unarmed,” Raquel states firmly. “You _must_ arrest him.”

“You’re not commanding here anymore, _puta_ ,” he spats, clearly grinning.

“Suárez, he’s not a threat.”

“He’s the biggest threat, you fucking bitch. He’s pulling all the strings! And I’m gonna put a bullet in his head if he so much as blinks.”

“Suárez, lower your weapon.”

“Surrender, Raquel,” he demands in response.

“No, Raquel, don’t!” Sergio shouts in the background.

“Surrender, Raquel,” Suárez repeats, his voice indicating he’s on the verge of exploding. “Surrender, or…”

“I can’t.”

“Surrender now!” he yells into her ear.

“I can’t,” Raquel mumbles.

“Are you sure? Cos I’m only gonna ask you one more time.”

Raquel hears the gun click, and she closes her eyes so tight that it hurts.

“Stay where you are Raquel, stay where…” Sergio yells and then,

_Bang._

She can hear Sergio scream like a wild animal, and she presses a palm to her lips not to cry out. There’s movement and shouting and a sound of something heavy falling and cursing in her earpiece, and Raquel’s eyes fly open when she hears Suárez speak again.

“That was his leg. Next time it will be his knee. Surrender, traitor!”

“Suárez, stop it. He’s unarmed. This is wrong,” Raquel cries quietly. “He’s unarmed, you shouldn’t be doing this!”

“There’s climbing gear, look!” Raquel’s ears catch in the background, and for a moment Suárez stops yelling from her speaker. He stops threatening Sergio with a gun and apparently steps away, because the sound of Sergio’s muffled moans becomes quieter.

“There are no mountains here,” Suárez states to his colleague, keeping the microphone away, but Raquel still hears him. “The bitch is hiding on one of the trees!” he adds louder after a few moments, realization clear in his voice. “You’re near,” he hisses into the speaker for Raquel to hear. “We’ll shoot you down. Surrender now!”

Sergio screams for her to stay away, and she winces at how agonized and unrecognizable his voice is. Raquel is crying, biting her lower lip till she tastes blood in her mouth.

“No,” she pushes firmly between gasps for air.

“That’s the wrong answer!” Suárez spats through his teeth, and then there’s another gunshot, and Raquel bites her palm to stay silent. She expects Sergio to scream again, louder, but this time there’s nothing. Just chatter. She freezes, leaning forward as if to look closer at what is happening on the other side of the line. 

“What did you _do_?” Raquel whispers under her breath, unsure if she can be heard at all. She isn’t moving, her eyes glued to a nonexistent spot straight ahead of her.

“It was self-defense, you hear me?” Suárez addresses another officer and there’s a reluctant response a moment later. “Let’s pack the body. We have to move.”

More muffled chatter comes to Raquel’s ears and then nothing. _Silence_. Raquel sits with her eyes wide open, her gaze moving chaotically, her chin trembling, her body slowly starting to shake. Shock overtakes her within mere seconds. She gasps for air and hides her face in her hands, suppressing the urge to scream…

In the back of her head she can already pick the sounds of machine guns at a distance.

They really _are_ doing it. Shooting at the tops of the trees hoping to hit her. How many animals will they injure in the process? This is surreal. This shouldn’t be happening, but the sounds of automatic bursts get closer and she can spot the noise of falling tree branches too. They’re closing in, and she is trapped in the epicenter, alone, but at this very moment it doesn’t bother her.

_Why did they kill him. Why. Why. Why. It makes no sense. They could’ve interrogated him, offer him a deal, threaten, they could lie that they’ve caught her, too, or even torture him to get the details of a robbery plan. But they… they shot him. And it makes no sense._

Raquel’s body swings as her mind is stuck between happy memories of the time she and Sergio spent together and his screams and the gunshots.

“Professor, it’s Palermo!” she hears in her earpiece. “Professor, it’s Palermo, do you copy? Sergio! Are you there?! Sergio!” Palermo’s agitated voice pulls her back to reality, and she shakes her head in disbelief.

Raquel inhales and holds her breath before responding.

“Palermo, this is Lisbon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback is what fuels my inspiration 🙏 (I don't mind negative comments as long as they're reasonable and polite).


	2. Memories of the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: Sergio is alive 🙏  
> You can always find me here: twitter.com/MariaPurt

“Palermo, this is Lisbon…” she says, her voice trembling. _They executed Sergio_ , she’s about to add, but something holds her back, makes her seal her lips before they let another sound slip through. There’s panic in Palermo’s voice, a panic Raquel’s never heard or thought possible to come from that man. Whatever is happening inside the Bank of Spain, knowing that Professor’s dead won’t help.

“Why…” he starts, but Raquel cuts him off.

“What’s going on?” she asks hurriedly, the machine gun sounds getting closer. She hopes Palermo can’t hear them.

“They shot Nairobi. A sniper. It’s very bad…”

“Palermo! Palermo!..” Raquel catches in the background. Denver. And then there’s silence in the speaker, and for several seconds Raquel can only hear her own heart and _they shot Nairobi –_ the guns bang in her head all over again, mixed up with Sergio’s screams, only this time there’s Agatha there, too, making a funny face like she did to cheer Raquel in Florence, but there’s blood on the girl’s teeth, and Raquel coughs, scared of how vivid that image gets _–_ and then Palermo’s radio set comes back to life, and Raquel fears she’ll lose it if she hears Nairobi is gone, too.

“They’re going to attack!”

Raquel breathes out. Machine guns approaching, this is too much. She wants to scream into the air, into Palermo’s ear: _this is no longer a heist, we’re taking down the system, this is war, act accordingly_! But she bites her lip, swinging back and forth on the branch, her back numb from sitting in an uncomfortable position, her hands shaking. They killed a man she loved… _Loves_. They killed him, and they deserve every bit of every insane scenario Professor has prepared in case things go wrong, but she just can’t bring herself to do it. There are people in the Bank. Innocent civilians who aren’t chess pieces on a board. It hurts too much, but she can’t let go of who she is, of what she’s been for the most of her life. She’s protected people for too long to just disregard their safety, no, not like that. She _cares_.

That’s why she joined the Police all those years ago, and that’s exactly why she quit.

She cares, and she hates herself for it right now.

Raquel drops her head onto her hands and winces.

“Stand down. I will take care of it.”

“We’re sitting ducks here!”

“I said stand down, Palermo! This is not your call.”

“Where’s Sergio?”

“Stand. Down,” she repeats in a metallic voice. They never really expected she’d be left alone to lead the operation from the outside, but Sergio… _Professor_ , Raquel corrects herself, made it abundantly clear how the chain of command worked. To her surprise, after a moment of silence Palermo agrees.

If she fails, it’s all over. It’s a scary thought she pushes down – no time to be afraid right now. For a brief moment she wonders what Sergio would have done in this situation. She’s somehow sure he’d do exactly this.

It’s one thing to use innocent people as a shield knowing they are safe and shoot into the air to scare off the police. But killing… Committing murder – Sergio would never stand for that, not in a million years, to hell with the contingency plan they made up, because that plan was never supposed to be brought to life.

Pressing her shaking hands to her knees, Raquel swallows and looks ahead: it won’t be long before the machine gun fire reaches her. She needs to rush. If she gets shot, the whole plan will go to hell, escalating into a massacre – when she processes this thought, her eyes widen in shock: if she gets shot, _if she dies_ , who’s going to take care of her daughter and her mother on the other side of the planet? What has she gotten herself into, _it was not supposed to come to this_.

Has Sergio been right about her involvement from the very beginning? She’s got so much to lose, but she’s not the only one. An image of Stockholm smiling with her son arises in front of Raquel’s eyes as she bites her tongue and pulls a burner phone from the pocket on her chest, turns it on, dials a number. There’s no need to hide her location right now, she can call directly: they know where she is anyways… and this old school piece of plastic won’t give them any precise details how to find her.

“Alicia,” she breathes out with force, covering her mouth with a hand to block off the distant sounds of machine gun bursts. She can hear a muffled speech on the other side, recorders being switched on, and then,

“Raquel,” Alicia states simply as if they’ve met at a formal reception and nodded to acknowledge each other’s presence, but her voice changes fast, “I’m sorry about your loss. I know how you must feel,” Alicia sounds almost like she means it. _Almost_. Raquel knows it’s not true, but isn’t it, really? She breathes out, momentarily thrown back into her pain. No-no-no, this is just the protocol, there’s no time to fall for something she herself would say to anybody else in this kind of situation. She swallows again, grimacing, breathes through her mouth.

It shouldn’t throw her off.

“That attack that you’re going to execute, you will call it back,” Raquel speaks as calm as she can manage. She sounds dry. “You will call back whoever is about to enter the Bank of Spain. Because…”

“You truly loved him, didn’t you? And right now it hurts so much, because you are remembering all the things you two were planning for the future. It will get better, I promise,” Alicia goes on as if she doesn’t hear what Raquel’s just said.

“It will be a bloodbath, stop it, Alicia!” Raquel shouts into her phone, infuriated by how precisely Alicia lands her blows, then glares into the woods, worried she might have been heard.

“Raque-e-el, you’re left alone, and you’re scared, and angry, and in pain, I understand it… _Think_ about your daughter before you do something stupid. You can’t bring him back, but your life isn’t over. It feels like that right _now_ , yes, but it’s not. Let me help you get out of this mess.”

Alicia’s soothing voice, the same voice she’d use all the years ago when they were still friends, resonates in Raquel’s chest, squeezing it so tight she can’t breathe.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” she breaks into tears, angered by her own sudden reaction.

“I know, and I _am_ sorry.” Raquel shuts her eyes, pressing her eyelids so tight she sees purple stars dancing in the dark. “It’s really out of my hands, what is happening right now in those woods. I hate it, Raquel, you know I do, but…” Alicia sighs and it sounds like she scratches her nose. “But I don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already have.”

This doesn’t sound like Alicia. Raquel knows it, she knows it’s all a charade, but fighting back is hard, and tears are salty on her bitten lips. She has no time to calm down again, she’ll just play along.

“Call off the attack, Alicia. I’m begging you. They have heavy artillery inside, and you’ve just executed the person who was holding them back. Please,” Raquel pleads teary, making her voice sound even more broken than it is. This is not how she envisioned their conversation.

Should she fail right now, should the armored trucks make it through the Bank door, will her _stand down order_ be enough? She knows it won’t. She knows Palermo won’t surrender without a fight. Lives will be lost, and it won’t matter that they’ve gotten Rio out, because he’ll go straight back in, along with all the others who'll manage to survive.

“You know how to make me,” Alicia’s soft tone changes into a metallic one. “I can hear them approaching you, the soldiers. I can hear them, Raquel. Sure you can hear them too, and you know what will happen to you when they get there… Take off the masking net and – slowly, very slowly – come down from the tree you’re sitting on. Get down onto your knees and keep your hands above your head. That’s the only way you’re getting out of there alive to see your family. Ever again. And then… Then I’ll call off the attack. You have… about fifteen seconds to tell me your decision. Tick-tock, Raquel, tick-tock, throw down the masking net, you know you’ve lost… sacrificing yourself won’t bring Professor back, and if you die, who’s gonna take care of little Paulita you’ve hidden God knows where?”

Raquel gasps for air, taken aback by the sudden change. What did just happen? Did Tamayo say something? Did they actually trace her exact location? They couldn’t have burst into the Bank yet, or else Alicia would gloat. Raquel frowns, her pain giving way to white boiling rage.

“Don’t you dare,” Raquel spats. “Here’s a problem with what you’re offering, Inspectora Alicia Sierra: I see what you’re doing. Exactly. And whether I’m shot dead or surrender, we both know I won’t see my daughter ever again. You, on the other hand,” she catches some air with her mouth and goes on, “you can’t afford a war in the centre of Madrid. You need me alive to tell them not to kill the hostages, not to blow up the bank, not to shoot an RPG at that armored truck that is approaching.”

“They wouldn’t…”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve just executed their leader and shot one of them, what other choice do they have, Alicia? You’ll just kill those soldiers inside the vehicle. Stop it. Stop it before they unlock those doors and open fire.”

“You’re bluffing,” Alicia chuckles, being back to her usual self. As much as her demeanor infuriates Raquel, she’s grateful: this is easier to handle. This hurts less.

“I was the one who taught them how to use it. We had plenty of time while you tortured that poor kid Rio. Alicia, do you even remember what we are supposed to be fighting for?”

“Uh, tha-a-at again…” Raquel can swear she hears Alicia rolls her eyes. “I’m no economist, but last time I checked stealing gold reserve of a country means economical collapse. What’s one kid compared to thousands of our elderly who’ll be left with no pension? Do you think _they’ll_ survive?”

“Don’t you understand, they’ll shoot the damn truck if it comes too close!”

“And the public will finally see them for who they are, _terrorists_.”

“They’re not the bad guys. You know what you did. You killed Professor in cold blood.” Raquel’s voice is weak, almost a moan.

“He resisted the arrest, but it shouldn’t have come to that, I agree,” Alicia states weakly, then sighs. “Raquel, please, you need to listen to me…”

“No, Alicia, no. You need…”

It hurts on every level, it stings, and Raquel feels nausea because of how hard she pushes all the happy memories of her life with Sergio down.

“I promise you, we wanted him alive,” Alicia goes on, and Raquel can hear how her former colleague clears her throat. “And I know you think it’s all over right now, you feel like burning the world to the ground, but…”

“No.” Raquel shakes her head, “It’s you who’s about to burn the world. If you were planning to distract them by shooting Nairobi, it backfired. They’re ready for you.”

“Raquel, what you do now will define the rest of your life. Tell them to surrender. If they really shoot an RPG at the Spanish military, if people die, you’ll be a murderer. You _personally_. And we both know you can’t live with that.”

“And you, Alicia? Will you go on like nothing’s happened? Cold blooded murder is not something that bothers you, right? When did that happen? Because it’s what you did with the Professor. Call back the attack, or I release the audio and the crowd outside your tent levels it with the ground.”

“Oh, _dear_ ,” Raquel can absolutely hear how Alicia scrunches her nose in disgust as she speaks, “The crowd outside the tent is nothing but a bunch of clowns with masks and jumpsuits. They won’t do _shit_.”

“Call it back.”

There’s silence, and then a heavy sigh on Alicia’s side.

“Do you know what you are doing right now, Raquel? You’re tying yourself tighter and tighter to them, making it _almost_ sound like you actually are in charge.”

The way Alicia says the word _almost_ makes Raquel’s back go cold. They both know what it means: if she gets caught, there will be no deal on the table. There will be life in prison if she’s lucky. Or shoot-on-sight, if she’s not.

“Call back the attack, Alicia.”

“Are you sure, Raquel? Last chance to save yourself...”

“Yes,” she breathes out quickly before her mind throws a bucket of doubts into her face; closes her eyes.

“Fine,” Alicia spats. “But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

When the call is over, Raquel keeps her eyes shut, her heart pounds. She braces herself for what’s coming: soldiers are almost here, and when she opens her eyes, she sees a dead squirrel fall from a tree just a few meters away. Breathing accelerating, Raquel pulls her feet closer to her body, careful not to fall. They are shooing upwards, randomly. There’s a big chance they’ll hit the branch next to her, if only she manages to curl up into a tiny ball. She does her best, lowers her head and hides it between her knees, wrapping them with one arm and grabbing the branch she’s sitting on with the other. If they hit her, she won’t fall.

Bursts get closer and are deafening now. 

Raquel bites the fabric of her pants to stay silent no matter what.

A bullet hits the tree trunk just above Raquel’s head, dropping pieces of bark onto her hair. She jerks, air stuck in her throat. There are loud voices and screams coming from the ground, more shooting, more falling branches, and then there’s unbearable pain in her body, and at first she can’t even understand where exactly it’s coming from. She almost loses balance, tightening her hold on the tree, and screams into the fabric of her pants. Her body is on fire, and she loses track of time, but when she regains her ability to hear, soldiers' voices are subsiding.

Or is she passing out, Raquel wonders, because the pain is just getting worse, overtaking all of her senses and making her eyes tear. It takes her much longer than she’d like to figure out where the bullet has hit her. She isn’t sure if it was just one. It hurts. There’s blood coming down onto her pants.

“Marseille, how far are you?” she moans, pressing her palm to the wounded side of her torso.

“Two hours out.”

“Shit,” Raquel hisses, biting her cheek. She opens her mouth to speak, but words are stuck in her throat. With her eyes wide open, she shoots what she needs to say, “Professor’s dead. I’m shot. There is a farm about four hundred meters from me, I’ll head there…”

There’s a pause. It wasn’t the best way to break the news about Professor’s death.

“Negative. According to the plan, you should stay covered until I arrive.”

Raquel jerks her head, hits the back of it against the trunk.

“I’ll bleed out by then. I need help. The farm,” she breathes in short portions, gritting her teeth as the adrenalin wears off, giving way to more pain. It’s not too bad, and she knows the bullets made their way through without hitting any organs. But if she stays on this tree much longer, she won’t even be able to climb down. And it’s a very long fall.

She contemplates an option to tie herself to the tree trunk and explain specifically where Marseille can find her should she pass out, but she needs to stop the bleeding, and she can’t reach to do so. As minutes pass and the gun shots are getting quieter, indicating the search team is now further and further away, Raquel scrunches her nose and checks the time. By now plan Alcatraz must have been a success, which means the police won’t have that many resources to spare. They’ll have to abandon the farm if they want to search the woods.

That really is her best option, as insane as sounds.

Carefully lifting her body from the tree branch, she clenches her teeth and growls in pain. Blood runs down her ribs, she can feel the warm flow spreading. The hardest part right now is not thinking how no matter what she does it will not bring Sergio back. Even if the heist is a success, she’ll be alone going back home. Alone on a boat for almost a month on her way to Asia, and then alone with her daughter and mother in a new house she – alone – will have to buy. In a location she – alone – will have to choose. No more meticulously folded away clothes, no more bed sheets organized by color, no more… him, nervously pushing up his glasses. Sergio won’t be there with her.

Her vision blurs, she throws down her backpack and almost follows it, loosing balance.

 _Shit_ , this is going to be harder than she expected. Pressing her body to the tree trunk, she starts climbing down, her arms almost immediately feeling numb, ache surging through her ribcage.

_Stay awake, stay here, stay awake, stay here._

_Paula. Paula. Paula._

She still falls – when there’s about two meters to the ground, Raquel can no longer hold her weight, and she lets go, landing onto her back, biting her own hand to stop herself from screaming. The soldiers are not nearly far enough, they’ll hear her if she’s too loud. It takes several minutes to get up and spray her boots with Off to make sure dogs won’t smell her if they come back, then, applying pressure to the wound, she starts moving towards the farm: they were willing to help Sergio for money. She can pay, too. At this point she is absolutely certain the blood she’s losing won’t let her make it till Marseille arrives, not on her own. She needs help.

Raquel barely sees anything when she finally reaches the farm. She stops at a distance, hides behind a big tree, leaning onto it for support, and looks around: to her relief, soldiers are gone, busy shooting the tops of the trees, trying to hit her.

No one would expect her to come here, not after what’s happened. Raquel takes a deep breath, willing the memories away, because she can’t handle them and the pain in her body at the same time, and pushes herself to walk these last meters. By the time she makes it to the building, she can’t even open her mouth to cry for help: her jaws feel paralyzed, locked together. She grabs the doorknob and practically hangs on it, unable to stand on her own anymore.

“Who are you?!” Raquel hears a female voice somewhere very close. She blinks a few times, but the blur with purple puddles doesn’t go away. There’s a rifle pressed to the side of Raquel’s head - that much she knows even without looking at it. Her breathing fastens. “She’s bleeding!” the same voice shouts, and Raquel jerks, because the sound is suddenly so loud and painful to her ears. “Come quickly!”

“I’ve seen her on TV!” a male voice comes closer, obviously running. “She’s…” the voice goes on, but Raquel cuts him off.

“Justino,” she breathes out, recognizing the voice she’s heard in the speaker right before Sergio was shot. _Sergio, have you seen Paula’s backpack? Don’t touch that, Sergio, it’s hot! Thank you, Sergio, thank you, cariño…_ She gasps for air and lets go of the doorknob, her healthy side hits the ground. This must be Justino. And the female must be that _Reni_ Sergio mentioned, or else Raquel’s fucked. It might have all been a horrible idea, because they can sell her out, because police can still be here somewhere, because… “Help me. Help me. I have two million euros on me. You get more when I…” she winces.

“She’s the one the police are looking for!” Reni states slowly, stunned, standing above Raquel. “The one Professor talked to.”

Raquel sees Justino come closer and stand beside Reni.

“You saw what they did,” Raquel tries. Justino nods, but Reni stays motionless, tense, lost in thoughts.

“ _Lisbon!”_ she finally says. “Are you?”

Raquel tries to nod, but her conscience is slipping away. Through the fog Raquel sees the old woman hand the rifle to the guy she assumes to be Justino, then kneel beside her. Reni pulls the jacket open and gasps, grimacing in digust.

“She needs a doctor! Doctor. She needs a doctor,” Justino repeats over and over again in panic. “What will we do if she dies here? They will arrest us. I’m not an idiot, they will say we killed someone and arrest us. They will arrest us, say we hid her, say we killed her…”

Raquel pulls all the remaining energy to shake her head. The woman, Reni, seems to agree with her – she shushes him and pushes Raquel to lie on her back, goes on inspecting the wounds.

“We call ambulance, and police come back to shoot her like they did that Professor guy. We get no money…” Reni reasons with little emotion in her voice, then turns to face Raquel, looking down at her, “This is a great risk for us, señora. How much can you give us?”

“I have two million in cash.”

“We want fifteen. Fifteen million.”

“I have two in cash,” Raquel repeats, attempting to pull the backpack closer and show the money. She gasps, cries and squeezes her eyes shut. “Help me. I will get you more. I never go back on my word.”

“Don’t move, señora!” she hears a female voice above her, but it fades. Pain subsides and her body feels unrealistically light, almost like she’s falling. Except, when you’re falling, there’s wind caressing your body, and right now there’s only the warm air stuck to her skin. That, and her wet clothes, soaked with blood and sweat and possibly chicken shit as well. “Please don’t move,” that female voice echos in Raquel’s ears, turning lower and picking up familiar intonations. _“Please, don’t move, Raquel_ ,” it comes again, but this time it’s _Sergio_. She’s sure it’s him. “Just stay in bed, would you?” he chuckles, lightly pushing her forehead back down onto the pillow. She growls in response and opens her eyes, exhaling loudly through her nose, her annoyance mixing with suppressed laughter. She’s back in Palawan, their bedroom dimly lit with the early morning sunrays coming through the half closed windows.

“It’s really not that bad,” Raquel points out, staring at Sergio’s face attentively. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are not. “Just a cold.”

Sergio shakes his head and moos, then lifts an eyebrow – he does this when he’s about to point out how ridiculously wrong she is about something. Raquel sighs. There it comes.

“You’re fevering.”

“I’ll just take some Panadol…”

“This is the third day you’re fevering, Raquel,” he argues, showing the amount with his fingers. “So unless you want me to call a doctor, you stay in bed today.”

His palm on her forehead feels pleasantly cold, and Raquel closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

“I really can’t be sick, not right now,” she tries, but she feels the energy fading away. She should’ve known three days ago when she first felt ill that this wasn’t _nothing_. Instead, trying to convince Sergio her slightly-above-the-average temperature was nothing to worry about she even attempted to have sex with him that night. Not her brightest decision. Raquel winces. It hasn’t been long since they started living together, and Sergio is still learning how to do it. He is still learning how to be with Raquel, studies her. He didn’t realize back then, three nights ago, that she was burning up until he was inside her. All the motion made her nauseous and consequences freaked him out. He’s been overprotective since then. In her opinion, he’s being unreasonable. “It’s Paula’s first Christmas here, so much to do,” Raquel coughs and the sound echos in the back of her head with unpleasant vibration.

“You have no idea how to be sick, have you?”

Not really, no, because she doesn’t get sick easily, and even when she does, she goes on about her life. You can’t allow yourself to be sick and in bed when you are a full time mom and you’ve chosen a male profession. Skip one day at the Station - and that’s the only thing your colleagues remember for years.

She smiles guiltily and laughs, rolling her eyes. Compared to Sergio, nobody is.

He stays silent, caressing the side of her head, then his eyes become lighter.

“What’s on your mind?” Raquel mumbles, frowning weakly, and shifts on the pillow in search of comfort. He gestures for her to wait and disappears in the doorway. Several minutes later there’s a steaming cup in Sergio’s hand as he sits beside her on the bed.

“Drink this… Christmas _is_ important.”

She obeys. He helps Raquel lift her head above the pillow and holds her while she sips from the cup. It tastes so strange. There is definitely milk, her sore throat burns more and then feels better almost instantly. It’s not insanely hot, but it does make her sweat even more. When she finishes the cup, Sergio insists on changing her clothes into the dry ones, stays by her side and repeats the procedure ten minutes later.

Her hands in his, they talk until Raquel notices how she’s the only one speaking. This is so frustrating, yet, she knows she’ll have to get used to it, because this is who Sergio is. His mind just takes off - and he’s suddenly a thousand miles away, calculating something.

“Cariño?”

“What is it Paula misses the most about spending Christmas in Spain?” Sergio asks carefully, his eyes glowing with an ‘I have a crazy idea, but I won’t share it’ look.

Raquel doesn’t respond. These months haven’t been easy on Paula. She misses her father, she misses her friends, her teachers. She misses the food and she misses parks and ice cream shops. Palawan may be a paradise, but it isn’t rich with kids’ entertainment, and the language barrier doesn’t make things any easier.

But as Raquel studies Sergio’s face, she spots a childlike excitement. Her daughter must have been talking to him a lot, because it seems he’s already mapped out what he’s about to do to fix it. That’s what she’s come to find the sweetest about him: he tries fixing everything she mentions.

“You rest, okay? We still have time. I’ll arrange Paula’s best Christmas!”

Despite her personal preference, Raquel agrees. Sleep takes over her fast enough, and she remembers the coming day only vaguely.

_In and out of sleep._

It’s not that bad, just fever and sore throat and a bit of coughing. But Sergio repeats over and over how she should stay in bed and how it is his personal mission to prepare everything for the holiday, and Raquel gives in. She sleeps. These months have been hard on her, too.

Sergio is by her side almost all the time that she’s awake...

“Paula can’t really wear green shorts to school, can she?” he asks awkwardly next morning when Raquel’s tormenting chicken soup in a bowl. It isn’t too much fun being sick on Sergio’s watch. But he sure is doing his best, Raquel adds as she takes a deep breath and swallows a spoon of creamy liquid. “She says…”

Of course Paula uses the lack of her mother’s supervision to dress up inappropriately. Raquel briefly notes that, apparently, her own mother is not having a good day today since Sergio’s got lone custody of getting Paula ready for school. Raquel grins quietly, watching confusion on Sergio’s face grow stronger.

“No, cariño. She should wear a school uniform… Are you sure you…”

“If you are about to ask whether I am able to take on a parenting role,” he begins in a low voice. He isn’t offended, merely teasing her, “I assure you I am perfectly capable of telling the difference between an eight year old’s swimsuit and school outfit.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Of course,” Raquel nods quickly, barely holding back laughter.

Last night, when Paula came to their bed for a goodnight cuddle, she told Raquel an entirely different story.

“You should really learn to lie better,” Sergio grins and heads out of the bedroom. Paula’s whining from the living room follows shortly.

Raquel feels much better towards the evening, and Sergio gives up his attempts to keep her in bed any longer.

“But I must insist that you refrain from initiating an intercourse tonight,” he states with a straight face, when Raquel walks up to him in the kitchen and hugs him from behind. His sense of humor is borderline confusing sometimes, self-defense mechanism of his somewhat clumsy social skills. Raquel smiles to herself, pressing her cheek to his upper arm.

Just briefly, Raquel allows her mind to dive into memories of her former life and compare the incomparable. All the times her ex-husband hissed how her headache after a bad day at work was nothing but fake. All the times Alberto guilt-tripped her into giving him _at least some resemblance of having a wife._ All the times she felt she owed him white lies; the times those white lies no longer felt white.

“I love you,” she breathes into the fabric of his sleeve, and Sergio turns around, cupping her face.

“Are you alright, Raquel?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, quickly moving his eyes from hers.

How did she not notice she’s got tears?

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I promise I don't bite (maybe just a little). It would make me happy to the moon and back to hear your reactions to what's going on. Whether you feel like giving Raquel a hug or hitting the writer with a truck (or teaching Sergio how to cook soup lol). Your feedback is what gives me energy and inspiration 😍


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